if you would taste heaven
then first you must taste hell
the holy child
is running wild
the devil's spawn as well
they'll meet you on the corner
they'll grab you as you pass
and in each ear
will whisper "here
you got a little grass?"
"let's have a little drink my friend
let's have a little smoke,"
and bit by bit
you'll dig the pit
to hold what you evoke
and if you would taste freedom
first know you are in jail
the bars as fine
as Bordeaux wine
and hidden by a veil.
Bad Poetry by Wayne Myers